


Chivalry Isn't Dead

by Cammerel



Category: Glee
Genre: Bitter about Romance, Blaine is Bland, Gaslighting, M/M, Not Blaine Friendly, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, Past Abuse, Past Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Size Kink, courting, in the past, never from babu, not from David
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/Cammerel
Summary: Kurt expects him to look disappointed, disgusted or something. That’s what Blaine would’ve done. But David Karofsky smiles at him and lifts his glass as if to say ‘enjoy yourself’. And then he gives Kurt those… thosebedroom eyes, thoseyour ass will never feel the same because of meeyes, those… those eyes that make him want to do things he swore he’d never do again.But this is what he’s used to, ignoring that age old longing and turning to the new guy.





	Chivalry Isn't Dead

“What do you mean ‘we’re sold out’?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but-”

“Don’t ‘I’m sorry, sir’ me. I ordered this fabric a **week** ago, do you understand? Money was exchanged, goods were purchased. Wh-”

“A lot of others had it pre-purchased as well,” the woman explains, typing on the computer and no longer meeting Kurt’s eyes, “We just don’t-”

“Do you have it in red?” Kurt growls out lowly, trying to lean over to see her screen.

She glances at him, snaps her tongue im her mouth and crinkles her eyes, “It’s not a very good red. I’m afraid the turquoise-”

“Let me see it.”

The woman calls one of the other employees to the customer service counter and Kurt’s then led back to their stock area.

He points it out, then picks it up, rolling it out to show him.

Kurt stares at the fabric for a long minute, cogs moving around in his head. He reaches out to touch it, holds it up to the light, then to the shadows, “Is this all there is?”

“There’s more arriving tomorrow,” the man says, “We don’t order this one much. The college students don’t normally use such a visceral color in their projects.”

Kurt smirks as he stares at it, he’ll have to take some hours off from work to make up for the lost time tonight, but he can make it work.

“I’m visceral,” he says and hands it to the man glancing at his name tag, “Do me a favor, Brian, and…” he leans in, staring up at the man and lifting a brow, “Take it off the shelf. I want to be the first one looking at this tomorrow. When does it normally arrive?”

“Around eight.”

“I’ll be here at seven thirty.”

He nods, swallowing, “I’ll keep it off the shelf for you.”

“Good boy,” Kurt smirks and pats his shoulder, then leaves the store, giving a side glare to the woman still standing at the customer service counter.

It’s a great sacrifice to make, changing the colors, but he can make it work. He can absolutely make it work.

But now the rest of his night’s free, his anxiety is through the roof, and he doesn’t know what else to do with himself for the time being.

There’s only one thing that could take his mind off a tragedy like this.

Kurt leans over the counter to take the glass before the bartender even has enough time to finish filling it, he chugs, then hands it back, “One more, please and thank you.”

He downs the second and starts off through the crowd, feeling the music pumping through his veins as he joins them. Sometimes it’s refreshing not to be surrounded by snobs, by others like himself - he can admit. He grinds against a few men, pleased to see when their eyes widen and then their hands try to grab his hips.

Kurt feels the unmistakeable tug on his shirt and shifts away, “Not me, big guy,” he teases, smiling at the taller man.

The bear moves in close still, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and pulling him in.

Kurt humors him, lifting his arms up to the man’s shoulder and dancing with him. It’s not like he’ll take him home, but at least for the moment he can appreciate the desire on the man’s face.

He feels two more men move in, one from the side and one behind him, and then there’s the soft, low voice in his ear.

“What’s a tiny little Fancy like you doing in a place like this?”

Kurt smiles, feeling an unusual fondness with of a nickname he hasn’t heard in a long, long time. So long that he can barely place it. Was it Puck? Was it Finn that had called him that back in highschool?

He could only remember a couple of occasions, but nothing specific.

Kurt pushed the thoughts out of his head, tilting his chin to look at the man behind him and smiling up at the handsome features, the amazing beard that he could never even dream to pull off.

“Just looking for a good time,” he says as he backs up away from the other two men, feeling the heat of the larger man behind him, those hands pulling his hips back to grind against him, “That gonna be you?”

“You gonna tell me your name?”

“I’m looking for sex, not a relationship, that a problem?”

The man shakes his head, leaning down to speak to him, “Not a problem,” he says, lips grazing the shell of Kurt’s ear, “If that’s what you want.”

“Want?” Kurt asks over the music, reaching back to cup the nape of the bear’s neck, turning so that their lips barely ghost, “It’s the only thing that matters.”

The bear’s dark eyes glint with amusement and he laughs so hard that Kurt can feel it.

He turns fully, pressing their bodies together to feel the length of him, “Just promise me everything’s proportional.”

“I have a big dick,” the bear says confidently, smirking and tilting Kurt’s chin up to look into his eyes, “Thick, and big.”

Kurt’s mouth waters. Size, confidence, bear, weird terms of endearment? This might just make up for him being shorthanded today.

“Fuck me,” he breathes out longingly.

“That’s the idea, isn’t it, Fancy?”

“You can call me that,” Kurt finally says, melting against him, “You can call me whatever you want, so long as you live up to what you’re saying.”

“You won’t be disappointed.”

“What’s **your** name?”

The bear laughs, grabbing the back of Kurt’s neck and staring down at him, “Dave. So you can scream it when I’m fucking you into oblivion.”

“Dave?” Kurt nods to himself, feeling his whole body tingle, “Dave is good, Dave is fine. I can do Dave.”

The kiss is all teeth and no class, Kurt’s arm around the larger man’s neck. He reaches back blindly, dropping his jacket on the floor and stepping over it and a pile of spilled fashion magazines in the entrance hall.

Dave grabs at the shape of his corset over his shirt, pushing Kurt into the wall and grinding against him.

“Careful,” Kurt breathes out, reaching out to lock the door. It’s an annoyance, but leaving it unlocked could get him robbed or killed in this part of town and he’s sensible enough to keep the blinds closed to stop people from looking inside for valuables. They wouldn’t find any, but that’s just his own judgement.

Dave the bear is taller than him by about three or so inches and, as he can see now, hairy from head to foot as Kurt shoves the pants down his thick legs. His large hands hold Kurt’s waist, pulling him from the wall as they continue to stumble back through the livingroom, over dirty clothes, a few piles of unfinished outfit designs, and college work sheets before they land back on his bed in the farthest corner of the room.

He sits up on his knees, grabbing Kurt’s belt, unhooking it and unbuttoning his own pants.

To Kurt, he looks so unusually familiar in the light from the kitchen as it glances over his face and Kurt can make out the tip of a soft mole near the left side of his lip. But he still can’t place it. Maybe he’s just feeling reminiscent lately, it **is** coming up on three years since he broke everything off with Blaine and moved back to New York for the third time in his life.

“Do you have tighter pants?” Dave asks as he rolls them down Kurt’s waist and he shifts, rocking his hips side to side to help get them off.

“I do,” Kurt admits as he tosses them back, strong, thick hands gripping his small, white thighs, “Want to see them?”

“Later,” the bear mumbles, fingers moving around his waist, reaching behind him to pull one of the bow strings on the back of his corset, “Damn, that’s fucking hot.”

Kurt can’t help smirking at his appreciation, as the feeling returns to his stomach and chest in tingles.

He unbuttons Kurt’s shirt underneath and begins kissing down his pale chest, the scruff of his face causing Kurt’s erection to harden even more.

They work together to get Dave’s shirt off, and Kurt can hear him finally kicking his pants from his feet.

He pulls back, looking down into Kurt’s eyes and he smiles, gaze dropping down his hairless chest and stomach as he lifts one of Kurt’s legs up, “You’re fucking perfect, little Fancy.”

This isn’t something Kurt hears often, let alone ever, and it stops him in surprise.

Normally, on a night like this, it’s all wordless, all quick and dirty and done. And Kurt doesn’t have to think about something like praise or appreciation. It’s just sex.

He almost blushes, but reminds himself that chances are the bear’s just drunk talking. Everything’s perfect when you’re five bottles under the table. But the ‘fancy’ nickname is nice to hear come from him again, and Kurt wants him to use it more. It makes him want some kind of reference for him, even if he’s just a one-night fuck.

“Keep talking like that,” Kurt breathes out and Dave leans low, sucking on his right nipple, one hand reaching up to touch his throat, his jaw, and then his lips - fingers tracing them.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathes as his hands move over Kurt’s body, lips sucking under his rib cage, causing Kurt to arch from the bed.

Dave sits up, staring down before he takes Kurt’s legs and spreads them on either side until they touch the bed, hands holding his knees down and he lowers, mouth moving down and taking Kurt’s entire length between his lips.

“Dave,” he breathes, grasping at the name.

Dave pulls away, hands letting go of Kurt as he stares, leans into his ear and whispers: “Beautiful,” before taking his earlobe between his teeth.

_Beautiful._

Kurt moans loudly and he’s turned over onto his stomach, hips risen and legs spread wide.

He glances back when he notices Dave reaching to the nightstand to take up the lube sitting there. Before he can object, one of the bear’s thick fingers press into him and he shudders. _Oh, even those are huge._

_His cock must be... **oh fuck** , monstrous._

“Dave,” he breathes out, the name coming out more natural than he expects. He’s never met a ‘Dave’ before, never fucked one either, as far as he can remember, but he likes how it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“Fancy?”

“Please,” he whines, moving his body back against Dave’s strong arms, fucking himself on the fingers as the bear kisses along his lower back, “Please, I want you in me now. Stop.”

He does, motions stilling at once, fingers leaving Kurt longing, but then he blinks when he’s turned back over onto his back. Surprised, because about ninety percent of the time - or even every time in the past two years - he’s been fucked on his hands and knees, not face to face.

It’s so... intimate.

Too intimate.

Dave flips him over though, not even asking, just forcing him onto his back like his little doll.

Kurt can’t help it, he loves the feeling of being shoved around by a big bear, and he lets out an uncontrollable moan of appreciation as his cock throbs, leaking.

“Fancy,” he says, voice soft and amused as he palms Kurt, “You have a condom?”

“I don’t mind if you fuck me raw,” Kurt responds honestly as Dave kisses his neck. He know it’s not safe, but fuck if he wants this man in the most passionate way possible. “I’m clean, are you?”

“I’m clean,” he confirms, “But that’s not the point,” his eyes meet Kurt’s and they’re soft, concerned, “I respect you. Do you have a condom?”

 _He respects me?_ Kurt lifts a brow at that, _he doesn’t even know me._

_He’ll never know me._

Kurt shifts his body down the bed an inch or two, then back up, rubbing himself against Dave, “What if I want your cum in me?”

He smiles wider at that, showing his teeth, and then runs his cheek down Kurt’s neck, the bristling hairs making that ‘shh’ sound, each hair dragging against Kurt, causing him to moan again needily, then gasp when it reaches his collarbone.

“Condom,” he asks again and Kurt looks down this time, eyes a bit hazed with lust, but he can see the large monster between Dave’s legs very clearly. Helen Keller couldn’t miss that thing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even had a cock that big in me before,” Kurt says honestly and he chuckles, “How could I possibly be prepared for that?”

Dave looks surprised then, blinking, and rests his palm on Kurt’s stomach, “I can stretch you more–”

“Not that,” Kurt says, smiling and sitting up on his elbows, “Oh, I can take it, don’t worry about that, **Dave**. I can take it, I’m sure. But I don’t have a condom that big.”

“It’s fine,” he turns away, pulling up his pants from the end of the bed where he’d kicked them off, and reaches around inside the back pockets, pulling one out, “I just didn’t want to interrupt too much.”

Kurt takes the package from him, see his eyes light in surprise again as he opens the corner, pulls out the condom, lays the empty case on the floor in arm’s reach, and moves down to roll the slick glove over his cock. It takes both of his hands and he stare up at Dave as he does it, watching his jaw set as he gasps, lips parting.

“Fancy,” he says, taking Kurt’s wrists and forcing him back down on the bed once he’s done, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

_Again with the ‘perfect’._

“How do you want me?” Kurt asks, breathing into his face and moving his hips suggestively, “Do you want to–”

Dave presses his lips to Kurt’s suddenly in a deep kiss, his tongue reaching out and tracing Kurt’s lips, grazing over them before exploring his mouth once more. As they’re kissing, Dave carefully positions himself, knees sliding up the sheets to rest under Kurt’s lower back as the smaller of the two lifts his legs and he carefully begins to slide in.

His large arms let go of Kurt’s wrists to wrap around his neck instead, pulling him up, surrounding Kurt in his warmth and scent. That hard, strong musk that Kurt avoids for himself, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t drive him crazy on a nice, big bear like Dave.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he pants and he begins to move.

The thick fur of his chest and stomach sticks to Kurt’s own smooth, hairless body, and it feels completely amazing as their sweat mixes, bodies working together, hips meeting in the middle of each thrust.

Kurt lets out a loud whining moan, hands jumping up to drag his nails down Dave’s back, “Oh! _Oh_ , yes.”

The thrusts rock the bed, hard, fast, and rough as they breathe together.

“Fancy,” Dave whispers over and over again as he pounds into Kurt relentlessly, groaning each time Kurt drags his nails over his skin, especially when he reaches up to the back of his neck and fingers through his sweat wet hair.

Finally, he pulls back, kissing Kurt’s chest, one hand moving down to pump his weeping cock until they both cum together.

His eyes stare intensely into Kurt’s, only registering his own climax with a wince. Kurt squeezes his own shut when he gives, arching his back and wrapping around Dave, letting the pleasure overwhelm him.

Kurt’s toes curl, fingers gripping Dave’s biceps, legs squeezing his large waist before Kurt’s body goes lax, flushed pink and cold with sweat dripping through his bangs as the dots run over his vision.

He hates it a little, how serendipitous and cheesy it is to **actually** simultaneously orgasm with someone else. When he was a young and innocent boy, he had dreams of those kinds of things. And in reality there’s the whole ‘yeah, that doesn’t happen’ thing.

Part of him now tingles with appreciation for it, to know that it apparently can, granted it’s with a total stranger and not the love of his life, the notion still squeezes something inside of him for just a moment.

His body goes numb, legs trembling as he finally opens his eyes to look at Dave, watching him in a pleased shock and awe.

Best. Fuck. Ever.

Or at least in a long while. He’s not going to start overstating like a schoolgirl.

His fingers run through Kurt’s hair and he moans sensitively, leaning against his palm.

“Fancy, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Already, he’s slipping into sleep, he has just enough time to feel Dave get up and leave the bed before he drifts off.

They always do that though, so he tries not to let it bother him. Fuck and leave. That’s really the only thing that’s true about life anymore now.

All men ever want to do is fuck and leave.

That’s what every one of them has done before, and it’s certainly the one truth that continues to reign in every waking hour of his life. Even sweet, sensual Dave with his pretty words still falls under the consistent gay man stereotype. Fuck… and leave.

The next morning he wakes up to his alarm, reaching back behind himself blindly to shut it off and when he curls back in on himself, he starts to fully register his surroundings.

How warm and soft the blankets are. And then there’s that smell, that smell from last night, the… it’s got to be _Old Spice_. He feels safe in it - the warmth, the smell - safe for the first time in his apartment.

He allows himself a few minutes to enjoy it, waiting for the feeling to leave now that he’s awake.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, he opens his eyes and is immediately supplied with chest hair. Thick black, soft chest hair, right against his nose.

The bear from last night?

His large arms are what envelops Kurt and has him feeling so safe and warm, apparently.

Kurt’s never had a man stay at his house all of the way through the night before, not without it being just fucking for endless hours. That alone doesn’t even happen often, especially these days, and certainly didn’t this time.

But to actually be ‘sleeping’ with him? Not once.

He could’ve sworn he remembered him leaving last night though. He got up from the bed just moments before Kurt drifted off. But apparently he stayed. He probably just had to go to the bathroom or something, or get a drink.

It’s nice, actually, waking up in the arms of a big, warm bear - **really** nice.

_His name was... Dave?_

_Yeah, perfect bear name. Every bear should be named Dave, and should stay the night with me like this._

He feels himself grinning. _Dave, yeah. Bears._

 _Dave._ And then there’s ‘Fancy’. What an adorable nickname to be referred to as. _I swear it sounds familiar._

_Dave._

_Fancy._

Kurt looks up at him as the warmth fills him, down to the tips of his toes like his orgasm last night, making his chest tighten in–

And then he stops as he looks at Dave’s features.

He sees the soft mole on the left side of his lips, familiar, more familiar than anything else. And it suddenly occurs to him why it looks so fucking–

_Of-fucking-course I’ve known a DAVE! I’ve known a fucking Dave before now._

_Dave–David **Karofsky**._

_My former bully of McKinley Highschool._

David Karofsky. The same Karofsky that was a gay football player and had threatened to kill him in his eleventh grade year, kissed him and made him go to Dalton, then he switched schools, admitted he loved Kurt on Valentine’s Day in Senior year, and then tried to kill himself because he was outed.

 **That** fucking Dave.

That fucking Dave had just fucked the daylights out of him until he was boneless.

_**That Dave Karofsky.** _

His eyes open suddenly, the light eyelashes flickering and then he looks down at Kurt, warm hazel eyes staring sleepily as he smiles wide.

“Morning,” he says, voice rough from sleep as his hand caresses soothingly along Kurt’s shoulder.

“Morning,” Kurt says back, feeling like his world has just broken it’s hip as he stares back numbly, “Morning, David. Karofsky.”

Dave’s eyebrows knit in confusion and Kurt can feel his arms start to pull away, “Fancy,” he yawns, closing his eyes and stretching, “How’d you know my last name?”

Kurt sits up at once, the light glimmering over his pale skin from between the blinds, making him look whiter than pale fucking white fucking–

“Of course I fucking know you, you asshole,” he nearly shouts, staring down at Dave as he stops stretching, eyes widening as he looks more confused, “How could I fucking forget you, Karofsky?!”

The look registers on his face and he looks Kurt over, “Ah,” he says, and then he laughs, “No one else can explode quite like you, can they, Hummel? I didn’t realize you had such a filthy mouth. Your face is so pink right now-”

“Fuck you,” Kurt says, grabbing up the nearby button-up shirt and pulling it on to cover some of his skin, shoving his hand down on Dave’s chest and using it to stand up.

“Already did,” Dave responds and Kurt can feel his hands grab his small waist as Dave pulls him back down, back into his lap.

Kurt stops and looks at him. _That’s right, he **did** fuck me. Really well, if I recall correctly. And I can feel that large fucking boner lifting against the blankets below my balls._

“I don’t really remember everything that well,” Kurt says, feigning memory loss, “How big was your cock again?”

Dave smirks in a way that reminds Kurt of when he used to prey down on him before he’d shove him against something, or take a certain cake topper, “About as big as your ego, _Kurtsie_.”

Kurt lets out an involuntary yelp as Dave moves suddenly, dragging him down and climbing over him before he has time to stop him, pulling the sheet away and exposing the length of himself to Kurt.

Before Kurt can do anything more, protest, if he wanted to (he doesn’t), he’s already put a new condom on and is shoving his way into Kurt again.

Kurt arches his back, rolling his hips and spreading his thighs as he welcomes Dave inside, legs wide to make space for him, “Fuck, yes,” he pants and opens his eyes, tongue lolling from his mouth as his hands reach up to wrap around the larger man’s neck. God, he was made to be filled with a cock this big.

Dave stares at him, a little shocked, eyes lust-filled and, now that he knows it’s Kurt underneath him, Kurt Hummel, it must bring back some pre-pubescent urges.

Of which he decides to voice.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first day I saw you, my little Fancy,” he breathes, his hand reaching down to brush Kurt’s cheek, “You’ve always been so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t tell what you were. But whether you were a guy or a girl, you were a fucking angel. A perfect, pale, beautiful angel.”

So when he was drunk... he was lowkey with the ‘perfect’ bull shit?

“Is that so?” Kurt asks, raising a brow as Dave rocks his hips, “When was the first time you saw me, David?”

“Third grade,” he mumbles against Kurt’s neck and the collar of his shirt, “You were wearing this large wool shirt with little soft threads coming off, that was striped with pastel colors. Pink, purple, blue, and yellow.”

“I remember that shirt.”

“It was always falling off your shoulders,” David says, pulling out and thrusting into him again, “I wanted to kiss your neck every time you wore it.” His lips trail over the skin of Kurt’s collarbone, doing just that.

“Fuck,” Kurt moans, drawing out the ‘u’ as he hits a particularly perfect spot inside.

His hazel eyes stare into Kurt’s as he grabs up his pale leg, pressing the back of his calf against his chest as he bends down.

“I also remember,” he whispers, pressing the top of Kurt’s leg to his nipple, “Those high kicks in football.”

Kurt reaches up, running his nails through Dave’s furry chest hair, moving them up to scratch through his beard, “Why do you have to feel so fucking amazing inside of me?” he pants out against his better judgement.

He’s never had a man twice, not after Blaine. And he didn’t realize that it’d be more amazing the second time, but the things he’s doing inside of Kurt is causing words to come out filter free.

“Do I?” he asks, smirking, “You think I feel amazing? You’re so tight, so fucking perfect, Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes widen when David says his name, David Karofsky’s marking off a lot of firsts with him today and the morning’s only just begun.

He doesn’t give out his name to anyone anymore. And even Blaine didn’t have the balls to say it in bed. But the mentioning of it now causes his dick to fill even more.

“Yes,” Kurt breathes, “Fuck, yes you do.”

Dave leans down and presses their lips together, their unusually soft texture moving against Kurt’s as he continues to thrust.

A hand touches his chin, tilting it to look into his eyes.

“I knew you’d feel good,” he rumbles, voice low and breathless, “I didn’t know you’d feel like you were made just for me.”

Sparks light from inside. There’s something filthy about knowing who this is now, feeling the stubble against his face, feeling his strong arms envelop Kurt as he comes, as he pulls carefully from him, moves down his body and he can feel his lips wrap around Kurt’s length, tongue working him until he’s releasing as well.

It takes some time for Kurt to come down this time, registering the fingers still gripping his thighs, the body beside him, holding him.

Silence reigns in finally as they tangle in each other’s arms, panting together. Kurt listens to his large heart pound against his ear, David’s thumb tracing the back of his hand.

“So,” he starts conversationally, “You like bears, do you?”

Kurt blushes, but he nods.

“Cause I remember a certain angry, pink-faced fancy at my school saying he didn’t dig on chubby boys that sweat too much and were going to be bald by the time they were thirty.”

Kurt smiles slightly, somewhat surprised that David can remember what he said, word-for-word. He tilts his chin up to look at him, see the warm, amused smile on his face and then he admits: “You were being horrible to me, what did you expect me to say? That you were exactly my type? And honestly, even then, you kind of weren’t. Most men were, but you saw the kind of men I was after. Besides, I didn’t want to boost the ego I thought you had. You were straight, and you were pushing me around.”

He nods in understanding, leaning in and kissing Kurt, “So I’m taking it that Blaine Anderson... isn’t so much your type anymore?”

“No, he isn’t,” Kurt confirms, feeling him smile wider and he pulls away to snuggle close against David’s hairy chest, “And while I didn’t get into… hairy _everything_ until I was in my twenties, Blaine still wasn’t my type even before that. For reasons that have nothing to do with that. But I **do** prefer the hair, the big arms, the bears, the shoulders… a waist that spreads my legs so wide I feel like a whore-”

He cuts himself off and clears his throat, ducking his head further against Dave. He’s never really said so much aloud.

Silence fills the space between them then and Kurt’s face starts burning. He can’t even believe he’s just said all that, that he admitted it out loud. To say it to a one-night-fuck is one thing, but to David Karofsky...

“So, the other things that make Blaine not your type,” Dave says then, “Would that have anything to do with him stealing your solos and generally being self-centered when it came to you two performing together or do you like a pompous ass that walks all over you?”

Kurt frowns as David speaks, then finally shoves away from the warmth, the coziness, pushing out of his arms and standing up from the bed. He starts to gather his clothes to get dressed.

“Hey,” David protests, “Come back here, what are you doing? Is it really that sensitive of a subject?”

“I have a fabric roll to pick up, and you need to go,” Kurt says, tossing him his shit.

He starts in on the buttons of his shirt when Dave’s large hands cover his, his body exposed in the middle of Kurt’s room, intense eyes staring down into Kurt’s.

“Hey, calm down, firefly. What’s going on?”

Kurt pulls his hands away to roll up his sleeves, taking his pants and quickly stepping in them.

Despite wanting answers, David watches him in fascination as he puts on the second skin, zipping and buttoning them effortlessly. He then reaches out, growling low as he takes Kurt’s waist in his hand and pulls him in.

“Did I piss you off?”

“Brilliant observation, Karofsky. Your self-awareness since highschool hasn’t changed one bit.”

“Come on now,” Dave starts, “I know you’re an impossible bitch most of the time, but I was asking a simple follow-up question to your own statement about Bland not being your type even before the whole bear thing. I just wanna know-”

“No, you don’t wanna know,” Kurt snaps at him, fighting the smirk at David’s nickname for Blaine (God, how appropriate), “Besides, this was just another one-night-stand for the both of us. I’m sure you’re just in it for the fuck, like I am. Well, that happened, now go.”

David raises a sharp brow, almost glaring at him, “Do you always have to be such a pain in the ass, Hummel?”

“No,” Kurt replies dryly, “That’s your job. That’s all you’re good for–”

The larger of the two of them grabs Kurt’s jaw in his hand, not tightly, but it’s enough to startle and terrify him, “ **Kurt** ,” he says firmly.

Kurt stares up into his eyes, his own as wide as saucers, and then he shoves Dave back, thankful that he doesn’t fight him. Unfortunately, he’s already shivering with a fear he thought he’d gotten over long ago, “No. You don’t get to touch me like that, okay? Not now, not ever.”

David’s eyes widen, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t-fuck! I didn’t mean it like that-I would hurt you-”

“What more do you want from me, Karofsky?”

“I…” Dave looks around and then finally starts getting dressed as well, “Fuck, nothing, I guess.”

“Then leave already.”

Kurt watches with crossed arms as David finishes pulling on his jeans, moving in close to him. His heart picks up, feeling that fear strike again.

“Stop looking at me like that, fuck!”

“Like what?”

“Like… like you think I would ever hurt you-”

“And our history together gives me absolutely no reason to see **you** , David Karofsky, as a threat?”

David’s face breaks then, brows bending in a way that almost causes physical pain to Kurt, “You know why I was like that. And I-... I’m not that person anymore. I’m not angry like that anymore. The last couple times you saw me weren’t obvious enough that things had changed?”

Kurt swallows. Two moments in his life that he tries to ignore every day. Dave telling him that he was in love with him after spending the whole week making Kurt feel like… like he’s never felt before. And then Kurt completely destroying that lovesick expression on his face in just a few words. And for what? For… Bland?

And then there was the hospital.

“You never called me after that, but that’s just fine,” Dave says dismissively, “I know I didn’t make it easy. But you know you’ve never been nothing to me, Kurt. You’re more than just a one-night fuck, more than that. You’re perfect-”

“Oh fuck off.”

Dave shakes his head and grabs Kurt’s hip, looking him over in amusement.

“What?” Kurt asks in annoyance.

David moves close, large hand lifting under the bottom of his button-up and resting on his smooth stomach, “You look fucking amazing in my shirt.”

Kurt blinks and then glances down, realizing that he… is indeed not wearing his own shirt, but Karofsky’s. He’s stop barely a third way through the buttons, had pulled it on in the first place just to cover things. He’s about to yank it off but Dave stops him.

“Don’t ruin this, Kurt,” Dave says, forcing him to drop his hands to his sides.

“Ruin what?”

David lifts his chin, leans in, and kisses his forehead, fingers wrapping around the side of his neck, his palm resting on his left clavicle. Kurt’s almost disappointed, but his lips brush over his right temple, his cheekbone, his jaw, and then his mouth.

He can’t fight the flip of his stomach as he lifts up on his toes involuntarily to deepen the kiss.

David breaks off and unbuttons Kurt’s shirt, _his_ shirt, himself, “Not once have I thought of just... _just_ fucking you.”

Kurt’s cheeks heat as he pushes it off his shoulders and begins to remove his pants again.

“I’ve jacked off more often to just seeing you in my clothes, or kissing you, buying you flowers, taking you out to eat. And, more than anything else, staring in your eyes.”

“Please,” Kurt rolls his eyes, turning away again, “Chivalry like that doesn’t exist, Karofsky.”

“Says who?”

“Says the man you just fucked last night without even knowing my name or anything,” he responds back, biting, “Romance, chivalry, monogamy, that stuff is dead. Especially for men like us.”

David nods slowly, looking as if ‘I’ve learned something new today’, but then he shakes his head, “I always thought that was the kind of man you wanted, Kurt. A man who loved you more than the world, and wanted to take care of you and treat you right. Making love to you, not just mindlessly fucking you into the pillow.”

Kurt swallows, trying to stop the tears from rising, “Yeah, maybe when I was sixteen - all young and impressionable, that might’ve been true. But you learn that no one else wants those kind of things but yourself and your childhood dreams. The best thing to hope for is a half-good fuck. You sufficed, you can go now–”

“Shit, Kurt,” he almost shouts, grabbing Kurt and pulling him close, “I don’t **want** to be just a fuck to you, I don’t want to be just sex.”

Kurt’s heart skips a beat at his aggressive tone, the narrowed eyebrows, but he fights to keep his mouth shut and let David explain himself.

“I want to make love to you,” he whispers, making chill bumps rise up on Kurt’s skin, staring deep into his eyes, “I want to spend more time on your hip bone than I did on your whole body last night. I want… I want to take you out to dinner.”

As he speaks, his hands drop suddenly and take Kurt’s, thumbs rubbing over the joints of his fingers.

Kurt didn’t realize that he was going to get this kind of a morning from last night. That’s for sure. A fucking confession of love while they’re standing here half-naked, hair blown crazy from sex, in a room that hasn’t been cleaned in at least a year.

And by David Karofsky, nonetheless.

“This week, I wanna take you out to dinner,” David says confidently, reaching forward and touching Kurt’s cheek, “Chivalry isn’t dead, you just... haven’t met the right guy.”

Kurt carefully pulls his hands from Dave’s and shakes his head, “I don’t know, it’s a nice thought... it’s **great** in theory.”

David starts to object, but Kurt stops him, raising his finger up.

“I’m going to shower, Dave,” he says slowly, staring at him, “I’m gonna shower. I’ve got a big day today, things to do. And I just… I can’t think about any of this in my life right now. So I’m gonna go shower, and I don’t want you here when I come out. There’s a spare key on the counter, slip it back under the door when you lock up.”

Dave’s eyebrows narrow and he straightens up, staring sadly at Kurt.

“You’ve changed.”

Kurt nods and turns away, ignoring the sting of those words, “We all grow up, David,” he says, trying not to think back on the boy that had a book full of wedding designs collected through obsession - and not because it had anything to do with a college project, “Maybe you should.”

He leaves Dave standing there in the livingroom, pulling the curtains of the shower closed and turning it on.

It was a good fuck, too. And it was... it was nice to wake up in his arms. Kurt ignores the burn in his throat and eyes, scratching the shampoo quickly into his hair.

Kurt startles when he feels arms wrap around his waist. He nearly turns and slams his elbow into David’s face, but stops as the large hands smooth over his stomach. _Oh, fuck. Does he really have to make it harder than it already is?_

“Karofsky,” he moans in annoyance and he chuckles.

“I’m sorry,” David whispers into his ear as he moves his hands away, “I’m too stubborn to just let you go, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt turns, ready to bitch him out when he begins massaging the shampoo into Kurt’s scalp. He closes his mouth, feeling the strong hands run through his hair, fingers disappearing to come back with the conditioner.

He soaps the luffa and begins coating his frame in the sweet smelling body wash, kissing along his shoulders until they’re face to face.

_I can’t let myself get used to this. It’s a nice treat, but it has to go._

_He’d only end up breaking my heart later._

Kurt holds out the fabric, measuring it in his mind before handing it back, “Three rolls should be enough.”

The man nods, picking up two more and motioning to the front of the store, “I’ll check you out.”

Kurt lifts a brow, but follows, arms firmly at his sides.

“You don’t seem too upset, changing over the color.”

“I don’t?” Kurt tests him, struggling not to glare.

The man adds up the three rolls of fabric, bagging them and setting them on the counter before him, “I dunno, you seem pretty happy for eight o’clock in the morning.”

Kurt shrugs as he takes out his bank card and slides it, punching in his pin number when it asks, “Had a pretty good night.”

A great night, not so good morning, so he can’t imagine why he seems even remotely cheerful.

“Someone as cute as you should.”

Kurt nearly gags when the man winks at him and he reaches out to pick up the bag, glancing the man over once more, “Sorry, you’d have to be a lot thicker to get my attention.”

The man chuckles and nods, “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“You’re mistaken.”

Kurt lets himself out of the store without another word, taking another sip of his coffee and pulling down his sunglasses when the bright morning sun hits his eyes.

He could do with a nice lay in, all of this walking is wearing his already worn ass out.

He’s had some sex marathons… but David… that man had stamina.

But god it felt so good to be wrecked completely for once, to just be destroyed. Not so much the mental torment of the morning, but he was almost willing to endure it again if it meant the sex would be as good.

Kurt shoves it back.

Fuck it.

It was only a good, one-time thing.

Sex isn’t good after the honeymoon effect wears off.

In the middle of the pumping music of the club and the hairy, sweaty men around him, he can’t be bothered to find his arms, but that’s the way it should be. He dances against them, throwing his hips back and forth in time with the steady pulse of music, grinding his hips into each of them in turn, his fingers dragging through their chest hair, yanking on the sides of their belts.

The loud rhythm runs through his body, causing him to arch back, knock back his last glass and give it over to a passing waiter.

He turns to the closest man, his short blond hair and bright blue eyes causing him to stand out against the rest of the bears, this hard, firm look of desire as he stares at Kurt. Thick, chiseled arms as he wraps them around his waist confidently.

Kurt runs his hand down the front of his hairy chest, “Fuck me.”

He raises his brows and smirks, “Your place, or mine?”

“Mine,” he answers, smiling back and pulling the bear from the crowd.

His eyes meet a particularly familiar set, watching him from the bar, sipping his cocktail.

Kurt expects him to look disappointed, disgusted or something. That’s what Blaine would’ve done. But David Karofsky smiles at him and lifts his glass as if to say ‘enjoy yourself’. And then he gives Kurt those… those _bedroom eyes_ , those _your ass will never feel the same because of me_ eyes, those… those eyes that make him want to do things he swore he’d never do again.

But this is what he’s used to, ignoring that age old longing and turning to the new guy.

They walk through the livingroom, pulling off each other’s clothes, laying on the bed kissing before Kurt turns over and arches his hips, offering himself up.

The unnamed bear doesn’t bother prepping him, running lube over his cock and carefully shoving into Kurt with a grunt, hand gripping his hip still as he begins fucking him down into the pillow. He doesn’t even bother with names, doesn’t look into Kurt’s eyes, doesn’t touch his hair.

They just fuck.

And when it’s over, it’s over. The blond stands up, pulling the condom off and tying it up, tossing it in the trash can before he begins pulling his clothes back on.

Kurt gets up, walking him out and locking the door, climbing back into bed and laying there in the silence.

_I guess I’ll just take care of myself then._

“You consider yourself to be some saviour to little twinks, don’t you?”

David looks up from his glass, then turns bodily when Kurt rests his forearms on the bar next to him, “Evening, Fancy.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’ll answer it when it makes sense.”

“The touching, the tenderness, you sharing your name,” Kurt starts to list off, “And god if you couldn’t help making me feel like some kind of beloved doll, telling me I’m perfect and beautiful-who does that?”

David lifts a brow, “Ah.”

“You gonna answer now?” Kurt asks sharply, glaring at him, “It isn’t lost on me how you treated me **before** you even knew who I was.”

“I like treating a man right,” David shrugs, “These guys? They don’t care, you’re right. Not many of them do. But **some** do.”

“And you make it your job to try and prove people like them wrong. To show them what they’re missing.”

“If that’s how you wanna see it, then that’s how you’re gonna see it.”

“How do **you** see it?”

David sips his cocktail, an unusual sissy drink that if Kurt got seen sipping, he’d be laughed at, “That’s a little too much baggage to unload to a one-night-fuck.”

Kurt reaches out and takes David’s drink, knocking it back in one swift move, slamming it down and smacking the counter as he leans in, “Yeah? Fuck you, too, Karofsky.”

He leaves the counter, walking out to the crowd and, for the first time, rips off his own shirt and throws it as hard as he can. The bears around him start cheering and clapping and they envelop him at once. This is normally when Kurt starts teasing, looking for the one he’ll bring back… but he just starts kissing.

He gets his mouth on one after another, grabbing their faces and beards, turning into one after another so he doesn’t have to think about fucking David Karofsky and his stupid fucking morals.

It’s been a week since sex with David Karofsky.

Kurt’s gotten back into what he was calling his ‘first year college days’. He’d slowed considerably as of late, but this week he’s went home with a different bear every night, only to be disappointed each time.

He wakes up to the cold emptiness, running his hand through his hair and reaching out to grab his phone before he starts getting dressed for the day.

Kurt zips up the sides of his boots before buckling the four belts on the front of his shirt, checking his hair in the mirror one last time before opening the front door.

Without looking down, he steps out to lock it but stops when his left heel crushes something glass.

He nearly shouts, catching himself before he can lose his balance and slam the door shut behind himself.

Kurt stares down at a porcelain... _something_ , whatever it was, it’s in pieces now and there’s some kind of brown stuff caked on the bottom of his boots, “Oh, what the fuck?” he snarls, leaning down to smell... _fudge?_

His mouth waters, but he also frowns in frustration.

“These are designer,” he whines, pulling out a moist toilette from his bag and cleaning off the chocolate goo.

_Who the fuck puts this kind of stuff on people’s doorsteps?_

He picks up the bits after locking the door and carries them out to the trash, dumping them in with yesterdays garbage and leaving off to class.

The second time it happens, there’s some distance between the mat in front of the threshold and the back at the top of the steps.

Kurt eyes it wearily, then looks around the street.

It’s early enough that there’s a quietness, but there are still hundreds of people around.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he drops down, the backs of his thighs meeting the backs of his calves as he plucks open the bag and peers in.

And this is when he realizes not only who is doing this but why it’s happening at all.

Inside of the bag is the cutest little ceramic bee, half of its body opens up and inside is…

“See’s Candies,” he mutters when it really clicks for him.

Suddenly, his heart starts racing.

His hands shake and he drops the ceramic bee in the bag. And then he gets vindictive, standing with the bag curling in his fist as he stomps down the steps, to the trashcan, and throws it down in it so hard he hears it break.

He ignores the pink flush of his face, the tears burning in his eyes, and then he slings back his scarf over his mouth to hide his shaking lips.

The walk to class is rushed, filled with too many occasions where he has to stop himself from thinking about the best Valentine’s Week he’s ever had. And to think he’d thought it was Blaine.

God fuck himself.

He throws out five more things in the next five days and **finally** the silence between him and David Karofsky has drawn on long enough.

Kurt walks to the bar, burning with anger as he takes David’s drink and chugs it like he’d done the last time they spoke, “Alright, I give up. What the fuck do you want from me?” he asks angrily, “You want sex? You jealous? Then let’s go, big guy. Let’s get this over with already.”

David laughs, waving off the bartender with the concerned look as he takes the empty cocktail glass and sets it down, “You think a guy wanting sex would be giving you gifts?”

“Every guy wants sex, that’s what they all want.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” Kurt throws out his arms, “Because I’m getting tired of nearly stepping on everything you put on the front porch of my apartment.”

“I moved them after the first one.”

“On purpose.”

Dave frowns in confusion, but the smirk is still there, “You trying to tell me that it bothers you that a guy is trying to court you?”

“It bothers me that it’s **you** ,” Kurt growls out, jabbing David with his index finger.

That’s when the smirk leaves David’s face and he turns back, putting a bill on the counter and getting up, “Well, alright then. Glad to know.”

Kurt blinks, mouth opening and closing before he chases after David, the larger guy moving quickly despite his size, not unlike that… god that stupid fucking Valentine’s Day-

“Wait,” he says, reaching out to grab David’s arm, “Wait please. I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” David stops and looks at him, slapping Kurt’s hand away, “You’ve made it pretty clear from day one that I’m not your type.”

Kurt starts to object when David cuts him off.

“I don’t get you, Fancy.”

Kurt has to look away, can’t look into those broken eyes, that hurt expression. The one that makes him feel like the worst person on the planet.

“I get you not wanting to be with me because I bullied you when we were in highschool, because I made your life a living nightmare,” Dave admits, “ **That** I get. And I know I don’t deserve any sympathies. But shouldn’t it be all inclusive?”

“I-wh…” Kurt reers back in offense, “What does **that** mean?”

“That means that you have no problem _fucking_ me,” Dave runs his hand through his hair, then motions at his chest with both open hands, “But you can’t bare the thought of me trying to be **nice** to you. Of wanting to treat you right for once. Sex is fine, sex is okay, but god forbid if I buy you things and wanna take you out to dinner.”

Kurt tries to work his mouth, but fails, his cheeks heating, “I-”

“How broken are you, really?” David asks then.

The words cut through him, make Kurt hurt in a way he hasn’t hurt in a long time.

“I didn’t do that to you, did I?”

“No, Dave, god, no,” Kurt says, swallowing.

The larger man shakes his head, “No. It wasn’t me, I know it wasn’t me.”

“It-” Kurt keeps his gaze averted, wraps his arms around himself and shakes his head as well.

“It was him,” David says then, and Kurt can hear the disgust in his voice, “Sure, I shoved you into lockers, I threatened to kill you, made you change schools. What did **he** do?”

Kurt blinks the tears from his eyes, and then he looks up at David finally. His bottom lip shakes, “I can’t… I can’t talk about this.”

“Not with me?”

“Not with anyone!” Kurt shouts, startling a few people around them and that’s when he realizes that they’ve got some onlookers.

He sighs and turns, starts walking away.

Nearly seven steps in, he feels an arm brush his and refuses to look at Dave again.

“Listen, okay, for just a moment?”

Kurt stops, arms still around himself, “What, Dave? You wanna tell me how fucked up this is? You wanna rub in my face-”

“No!” Dave interrupts him, grabbing his biceps and seeing the way Kurt braces, “No, I don’t… I wanna talk. And if that’s too hard, then I can just listen.”

Kurt feels the knot in his throat, how it makes him nearly choke, “I… I don’t… want to talk.”

“Then we don’t have to talk either,” David offers, “I don’t know what he did, but I’m here and I’m not him, and whatever it was… I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Kurt starts to cry then, letting out a harsh chuckle as his face starts to break into pieces, “No, you probably wouldn’t,” he finally says and then he’s downright sobbing like a child.

David pulls him into his arms, holds him, shushes him, runs his hand through the back of Kurt’s hair.

“You’re not him,” Kurt says numbly, barely getting the words out as his whole body trembles, but David holds him together.

He feels the arms lift him, one under his back and the other under his knees, and David carries him the few blocks it is to his apartment.

Kurt doesn’t even register when David takes his keys and unlocks the door.

It isn’t until he’s taking off his clothes that he realizes he’s in bed. Immediately, his mind starts to flick off, to get ready for sex, but then the arms wrap around him and hold him close, and he’s still in his boxers.

David holds him, just lays there and holds him.

Kurt wakes up, peeling his sweated cheek from David’s chest and looks up at him.

The larger man is still asleep, arms wrapped tightly around Kurt, shirt and jeans still on. One hand grips Kurt’s hip, the other cupping the back of his neck.

He smiles slowly and kisses just over David’s nipple, reaching up to touch his jaw and scratch through his beard.

David’s eyes crack open just barely when he starts to speak.

“You were right,” Kurt says, sighing, “I was just too blindly in love to notice what he was doing to me at the time. All I could think of was Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. Everyone loved him, he was charismatic, he was good at singing and dancing. He was perfect. And he just used me because I was easy. We were both pretty easy. But you were right. Stealing my solos, being self-centered, walking all over me. But there was a lot you didn’t see, too.”

Dave doesn’t say anything, just watches Kurt, fingers curling against his skin to comfort him.

“There was this guy I met one time, we would send eachother texts,” Kurt explains, “And not like… not sexting, nothing like that. Just words of encouragement, making eachother happy and confident and feeling good. It had been… so… long… since someone had said something nice to me like that.”

Dave’s brows narrow.

“Blaine got into my phone and accused me of cheating. I can’t argue it, it wasn’t right of me. I needed to hear those kinds of things from the person I was with. Not someone else. And then when I first went up to New York, Blaine cheated on me. He had sex with another guy. Not just texting, not sexting, but real-”

“Sex,” Dave responds.

Kurt nods, “He blamed it on me.”

He feels David tense against him, curls his fist in Dave’s shirt and speaks against him, “He said he was alone and he needed me. And I wasn’t there-”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Kurt shakes his head.

“So, I… I broke up with him.”

“Of course you did, you’re not stupid.”

Kurt smiles sadly, “No, I-I **am** stupid. Because I got into this relationship with this really great guy, Adam. But Blaine wouldn’t let me go, he kept calling and apologizing. And I… god, it was so up and down. We were broken up and he… he proposed to me.

“No-”

“Yup.”

“Kurt-”

“And I told him ‘yes’. After he… he made me feel like shit for looking good, for being confident, he tried to force me to have sex with him-”

Dave sits up then, pulling back and looking at Kurt in disbelief, “He what?”

“Karof-Dave, calm down.”

“Calm down?” David clenches his teeth for a moment, “Something tells me this isn’t the worst of it. How old were you?”

Kurt’s brows narrow, “When..?”

“When you got married.”

“Not nearly old enough,” Kurt says dismissively, waving his hand, “We weren’t even together at the time, it was stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Kurt,” David says, “You’re too smart to do something like that.”

Kurt shrugs, “He did it around like a hundred people, all my friends, who were all so happy and so excited. And then, even when we were engaged… we got married with Santana and Brittany.”

“You didn’t even get your own wedding?”

Kurt reaches out his hand, “Can you come back over here?”

David doesn’t argue him, pulling him in and laying back down, “Why would you do it?”

“Because he was Blaine, and I was scared, and he didn’t give me much of a choice.”

David laughs, “I knew he was walking all over you. I didn’t realize it was so bad,” he huffs and looks away, “Where’s it go after that?”

“Uglier,” Kurt admits, “We stayed together, fame and fortune and all that-”

“I think I remember something about that. You-... I don’t know, I tried to ignore that kinda stuff.”

“I was in a famous celebrity marriage with him,” Kurt supplies, “I acted for some time.”

“Yeah?”

“It was nice when it wasn’t a nightmare,” Kurt tells him, looking up into his eyes, “Being away most of the time, and that’s how I managed to stay married to him for seven years.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kurt,” Dave mutters lowly, glaring, “Seven years with that asshole?”

“I know.”

“Seven **years**.”

“I know,” Kurt swallows tightly, “Seven years… and I never felt so alone, so unloved. And then there were the times when… well, when I wasn’t alone.”

David watches him, clearly trying to keep himself calm.

“It had been going on since we were in highschool,” Kurt says, “I just never noticed it, or I never wanted to, I’m not sure which. Do you know what… gaslighting is?”

David tilts his head slightly, but then shakes his head, “Nah, I mean, you’re talking about-”

“In a relationship.”

“No, I don’t know what it is.”

“You wouldn’t,” Kurt smiles sadly, reaching up to touch his cheek, “You wouldn’t,” he says again.

David lifts his brows, “You gonna tell me or do I have to get my phone?”

Kurt chuckles, “It’s… uh… it’s when you do all of this really manipulative stuff to the person you’re in a relationship with. Where you try to make them feel helpless and crazy, and make them ‘realize’ that they need you.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It’s really fucked up,” Kurt agrees, “It kind of made me think I was going insane, honestly. I would say things, I would be careful, and the next thing I knew, we were fighting. It’s like I was on eggshells with him all the time. And he’d always turn it around on me, saying that I didn’t appreciate him or that he couldn’t have feelings or an opinion with me.

I kept asking myself like… ‘Am I really a drama queen?’, ‘Am I being too oversensitive?’. It even got into the times when I wasn’t around him, I’d be apologizing to my friends over the stupidest things. I’d apologize before anyone had a chance to even say anything. I would lie just to keep him happy, I would **act** happy just so I wouldn’t possibly upset him. I knew something was wrong but I kept thinking that maybe it was me. That I was doing something wrong.”

David moves a hand up to his cheek, his brows crinkled in pain, “Kurt-”

“It didn’t even register with me how bad things really got… until he hit me the first time.”

David tenses again, the muscles that had been loosening from laying still so long hardened right back up.

“Which is hilarious, because I have more strength in one arm than he has in his body,” Kurt laughs bitterly, “It-”

“It’s not hilarious at all,” David says then, lips pressing tight once the words are out.

Kurt blinks and looks away, but leans into his hand, “I almost left him then. But I kept telling myself that things had just gotten heated. After that, I guess it got easier for him to think he could get away with it.”

“What made you finally leave him?”

“You’re gonna laugh.”

“I won’t laugh. None of this is funny.”

Kurt sits up, folding his legs and looking at David, “He was manipulating me, abusing me, every time we had sex I felt like he was raping me. Then I found out he was cheating on me, had been for… for I don’t know how long. But that still didn’t make me leave him.”

He reaches out, taking Dave’s hand in his and staring down at it, “It was actually Valentine’s Day that did it for me.”

“Something that happens every year,” David observes, “Yet it took you seven of them to leave him?”

“I was walking through the store, grocery shopping,” Kurt explains, “Passed by the cards and… - I always ignore them. I hadn’t given out a card since… well, not since you-it…”

“I get it,” Dave responds, “Continue, stop stammering before I kiss you.”

Kurt blushes, looking away and wetting his lips, “I just… I saw this one and…” he fumbles with Dave’s hand in his, tapping the skin on the back of his hand, “It said ‘You make my heart sing’.”

“Ouch.”

Kurt nods slightly, reaching up to wipe a lone tear as it tries to make its way down his cheek, “That was it.”

“That was it? That made you break up with him?”

“That was it, that’s when I decided that true love wasn’t real,” Kurt pulls his legs up to his chest, “All men just want what’s easy. They just wanna use you and abuse you and destroy you.”

David sits up as well, taking Kurt into his arms, “No.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything, just leans against him.

“Not all of them, not for a second,” he pulls back, lifting Kurt’s chin, “Not me.”

Kurt stares at him for a moment, then pulls from the bed, making David protest. He strolls over to the closet, opening it and reaching up to grab a box from it. Then he walks back to the bed, sitting and setting it down in front of David.

David stares at the box for a moment, tentatively lifting it and blinking when he stares at the heart-shaped box inside. He sifts around, finding all the cards he gave Kurt, even the stupid heart paper telling him where to meet at Sugar’s ‘Sugar Shack’ set up at Breadstix.

“Why-”

“Did I keep all of this?” Kurt asks, laughing and shrugging so hard his shoulders meet his ears, “I’m an idiot that… still finds myself wishing that that kind of stuff was real. All the things that you made me feel that week… the only time I ever felt really desired… loved, treasured, appreciated, adored-”

He stops when David cuts him off, the kiss interrupting his admission and he moans weakly, hands lifting up to grasp his shoulders.

It’s heated, but short, and then David pulls back.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay?” Kurt asks, raising a brow in confusion, “Okay… what?”

David closes the box and hands it back to Kurt, “I think it’s time we do this right,” he says firmly, “It’s time **I** show you what it’s really like.”

“Meaning?” Kurt draws out, still not understanding.

“When’s your next free night?”

“Why?”

“I’m taking you out to dinner.”

Kurt smiles slowly and stares at him, “Are you?”

“And you’re gonna know what it’s like to be desired,” Dave starts listing off, “-loved-” climbing over and pushing Kurt back, “-treasured-” kissing him between his words, “-appreciated, adored-” 

“You think you can do all that?” Kurt asks, giggling and feeling his cheeks flush.

David pulls back, forearms on either sides of Kurt’s face, “You’d be surprised.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna court you so fucking hard, Hummel,” Dave says, growling low and kissing him again, “Tell me you wanna live that week for the rest of your life, that’s all you gotta say, and I’ll do it.”

Kurt stares at him, at his searching gaze, “I wanna live that week for the rest of my life,” he says and he sees David’s eyes light up, “But on one condition.”

“Just one?”

“I kind of… was a jerk and threw away everything you got me last week.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Think you can do each one over?” Kurt asks, “Same things, just a second time?”

David laughs, “Same **exact** things?”

Kurt nods, “I wanna see them and not feel so bitter and pissed off.”

“I can do that. Now repeat after me.”

“After you?”

“Chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Dave-”

“Chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Oh come on.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead, Hummel. Say it.”

“Oh, alright. Chivalry isn’t dead.”


End file.
